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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995145">Fireproof</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulava/pseuds/Nebulava'>Nebulava</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Nether's alive and she has a son [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Nether (Minecraft), Tommy is the Lava King, more character tags will come as they become relevant, the nether is sentient, this is now very outdated so please ignore most of current canon ty, this kicks off near the start of Tommy's exile so a lot of things will be different, we call her mother nether in this house</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:41:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulava/pseuds/Nebulava</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She watches on, forlorn, as the boy on his last life descends towards the boiling magma. She feels his sorrow as he crashes into the liquid heat. And as his tight grasp on life begins to loosen, far too willingly, she understands his pain.</p><p>He deserves better than this. Better than those who hurt him.</p><p>So she makes a decision.</p><p>===</p><p>Tommy jumps into the lava before Dream can stop him. The nether chooses to spare him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, TommyInnit &amp; The Nether</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Nether's alive and she has a son [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>651</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I want to go home.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a story born from sleep deprivation and discord conversations. The plot came to life when my tired brain was thinking about Moana. Except if Moana was Tommy, and the ocean was lava.</p><p>I don't really know exactly where this story will be going, but there's a lot of plans for the future. Big thanks to my good friend Corn, who's helping me a ton with idea exploration and proofreading. I'm very new at this, and my characterization and storytelling needs some work.</p><p>I hope you enjoy, regardless.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://discord.gg/geJuRNqnGX">discord</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’ll be back,” Ghostbur claims eagerly, making eye contact with Tommy. He seems so happy to be doing this for him. Not that he ever asked for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy really doesn’t want a picture of the fucking tree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I wanna see the Christmas tree too,” Dream unfortunately decides to interject. He wishes that man stopped speaking. Especially to him. “I’m going through.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna— yeah, Tommy, stay here,” chimes in Sapnap as well, ever the sheep at the green bastard’s heels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d rather not stay. He’d rather see the tree in person — see all his friends again. His home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Are they still his friends? Would they even still want to be, after everything?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll be back in a minute,” Dream adds on teasingly, just before their forms vanish completely into the portal. His voice is sickening. He can almost imagine the nasty little smirk beneath that stupid mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s just Tommy and the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s never hated silence so much before this damn exile. Even listening to Dream ramble on about his stupid fucking Manhunt game is better than having nobody.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy smiles bitterly to himself, eyebrows knitting into a pained expression. He really does have nobody. His shoulders sag. Tubbo hates him, surely; Dream is a psychopath, Sapnap can never decide whose side he's on, his family has all betrayed him, and Wil… Ghostbur doesn’t count for much anyways. Tommy’s just a vacation destination to him. Wil can’t even properly be there for his own brother, when he needs him the most.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s all alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that’s how it ought to be, isn’t it? He chose the discs over L’Manberg. Over Tubbo. And now he’s left without all three. He got greedy, and he’s paying for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The usually obnoxious din of the lava feels strangely soothing to him right about now. Now that he’s noticed it, it’s not so deafeningly quiet after all. For a man who’s lost everything, who can no longer stand the silence, at least he has this. The rumble and pops of the molten stone beneath him offers a constant white noise that’s helping to take his mind off his troubles. He’d like to see Dream try and rob this from him, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, he wouldn’t like that. The neon prick would manage to find a way, and Tommy would be more miserable than ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy steps closer to the edge of the blackstone path, one hand on the wall of the hub as he peeks over the ledge. Despite the blistering heat the nether’s atmosphere is constantly radiating, the rolling waves of warmth that rise and caress his face from below are quite comforting. It’s a nice change from the suffocating, stagnant air along the paths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he keeps staring downward, his eyes long unbothered by the dryness brought from the temperature, he finds the sight entrancing. Like a painting come to life, the vibrant oranges and reds shift gently among one another, blending into an infinite pool of colour. It’s the same shade as the sunset.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s missed watching the sunset, with Tubbo and his discs and not a care in the world. He wants to go back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy’s attention is forcefully dragged away from the lava as he hears the telltale </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the nether portal a few meters away. The moment his eyes land on that half-materialized, ever-smiling mask, a tidal wave of despair washes over his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’ll never be able to go back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream can do nothing but stare at the empty space where Tommy was standing just moments ago. His feet are frozen in place where they had only half stepped out of the portal frame, the nausea from dimension travel being the very last thing on his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts are racing. He doesn’t want to believe what he just saw, he wants to believe it was a trick of the light, the heatwaves creating illusions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Dream knows better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows, seconds later, when he hears the sizzles and pops of agitated lava far below him, that he can’t pretend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows that if he looks over the edge of the bridge, the most he’ll see is a couple of Magma Cubes dancing on the lava’s surface.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows that he just watched Tommy lose his last life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, he understands deep down that this was no accident. And he wonders, bitterly, how much of this was his own damn fault.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream feels nauseous.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo, Dream, move your fat ass out of the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream snaps out of his trance as he’s brought back to the present with a playful shove on the shoulder. The present where his friend — could he call himself Tommy’s friend? — just jumped from the path in front of him, and his other two companions are coming back from the SMP. Blissfully unaware.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders how long he stood there, staring at that glaringly empty, jagged edge of blackstone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the one with the fat ass, AssNap,” he retorts halfheartedly, stepping fully out of the portal frame to make room. He isn’t ready to tell them. He’s still getting over the shock. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened, what is he meant to say? To feel? Maybe the banter can distract him from the inevitable truth, if even for a moment longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nuh uh, not as fat as George’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”You would know,” he bites back, forcing a weak laugh that dies in his chest just as quickly as the boy falling into la—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream clears his throat, interrupting his brain’s very unwelcome downward spiral. He can feel Sapnap’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t meet his gaze. He knows he’s acting weird. A few seconds tick by, and the awkward pause that’s starting to build under Dream’s silent panic is thankfully interrupted by the return of their other tag-along warping into the nether hub.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”Hey, Dream, Sapnap. Where’s Tommy?” Count on Wilbur to get straight to the point. Death hasn’t changed him much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream glances towards the edge of the bridge for just a moment, dread and regret hitting him full force again, before shoving the emotions down and staring out into the fog like it could give him answers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”Tommy, he, uhh, he went on without us,” he offers, punctuating with a light cough. Not a total lie. ”He– he’s probably back at Logsted by now.” Definitely a lie. But Ghostbur seems to buy into it, and Dream isn’t sure if he should be nervous or relieved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chooses to feel nothing instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, alright! Let’s go meet him then, I have the picture of the tree for him,” Ghostbur cheerfully announces, waving the polaroid image proudly as he leads the way back towards the Logstedshire portal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream moves to follow, his footsteps somber, but is soon stopped by someone grabbing onto his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks over his shoulder at Sapnap, turning his body slightly in a silent invitation to continue. He knows where this is going, if the uneasy look on his friend’s face is anything to judge off of. He can’t avoid the elephant in the room forever. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> avoid it, as much as he wants to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” He has no reason to cover anything up, though the thought of being... pretty much entirely responsible for this, it terrifies him. But Sapnap’s giving him this </span>
  <em>
    <span>look,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he knows he needs to have this conversation. “Tommy’s not at Logsted, is he.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream breaks eye contact with his friend — not that he’d be able to tell under the mask— but makes no move to pull away from the vice grip on his bicep. He doesn’t respond, knowing the man’s already piecing together the puzzle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Tommy?” There is an almost unnoticeable tremble in his voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dream thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s just afraid to hear it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing the lump in his throat, Dream steels his voice and reasons, “We were never good friends to him anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sapnap yanks on his arm. “Dream, </span>
  <em>
    <span>where is Tommy?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure he actually hated me. Hated most of us.” They don’t have the right to mourn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“DREAM!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s gone, Sapnap.” Dream measures his breaths carefully, refusing to let his emotions slip through his unbreakable facade. He almost immediately fails when he looks back to see the absolutely wretched expression on his companion’s face. “He’s dead. Don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You—” Sapnap abruptly lets go of Dream's arm, as if it burned him, shaking his head as he takes a couple steps backward. “No, he— he’s just a kid, Dream, h-he—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wasn’t that much younger than us, Sapnap,” he reminds, a bitter tone leaking into his voice. Bitterness at himself. There are a lot of things he shouldn’t have done to Tommy. A lot of things he shouldn’t have said. He got too carried away in his little game of cops and robbers, and now he won’t even have the chance to say sorry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches as Sapnap’s expression twists from shock and grief into something more sharp. “How does that change anything?! You— Tommy just—” The man fumbles with his words, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Maybe he caused a little bit of trouble in town, but he didn’t deserve </span>
  <em>
    <span>this!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream turns away from the other man. “I know,” he agrees, voice strained. He should have checked on Tommy sooner, maybe he could have stopped him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What the hell, Dream, how could you </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> do this? It was his last life, you knew that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream lets out a sour chuckle. His eyes sting. “Yeah. But Tommy made his choice.” It’s Dream’s fault. He caused this, and he never took the chance to fix it. “Why didn’t you try to stop me sooner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears a scoff followed by a quiet sniffle behind him. “You didn’t have to do it. It didn’t have to be like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s right. Was the exile necessary? He could have solved this peacefully a long time ago. Dream doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream isn’t given a chance to reply, as he listens to Sapnap’s quickly retreating footsteps. Probably to spread the news. At least it saves him the trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to have to see Tubbo’s face when he finds out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sapnap overreacted a bit, he thinks, but he understands. He was closer to Tommy than Dream ever was; He actually fought with him, in some of the ‘wars’,  as Tommy dubbed them. He can’t even fathom how the others will feel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still can’t fucking believe it. They were just teasing him, having some laughs. He never meant any harm. He thought Tommy was in on the joke. Thought he was having fun too, even if he was exiled from his home. It’s not like they were going to lock him out forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were friends, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposes it was hurting the boy more than he realized. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> was hurting him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dream?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head snaps up and his body tenses as he's brought out of his rumination, not even noticing Ghostbur’s approach. He’d let himself forget the man was even with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I noticed you guys stopped following. Didn’t you want to come visit Tommy again? He’ll be so happy to see the tree!” The ghost holds the picture out again for emphasis. “And where's Sapnap run off to? I saw him go back through the portal. Did he forget something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost can’t handle the innocent smile on Ghostbur’s face.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Yeah, uhhh, no. Sapnap... isn’t going to be joining us. Let’s just go,” he replies, walking past the friendly apparition, heading for Logstedshire again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could practically hear Ghostbur’s face falling. “Oh... That’s too bad, then. But that’s alright, he can come visit later!” Dream can’t really tell if the ghost is following, per lack of any accompanying footfalls, but he can probably assume.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that it matters. He plans to stay far away from L’Manberg, at least for a while. Whether Wilbur’s ghost accompanies him or not. Dream isn’t a coward, but he knows his guilt will cloud his judgement. He wants a clear head before facing the rest of the SMP.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to ruin anyone else before then.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once upon a time<br/>Dream went to the supermarket<br/>And when he got there<br/>He noticed they were all out of milk<br/>So he went up to the counter<br/>And when he got there he noticed the cashier was<br/>None other than tommyinnit<br/>Oh dream<br/>Oh dream<br/>Oh george<br/>10 million views</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Cold.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah btw my schedule for this is gonna be all over the place. Hope you guys stick around regardless. I'm still learning how to do all this writing stuff.</p><p>I've appreciated all the love so far though folks, so thank you for that.</p><p> <a href="https://discord.gg/geJuRNqnGX">Here's a discord for the story if anyone's interested in chatting.</a></p><p>Uhh warning I guess for depiction of vomiting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy wakes up feeling more well-rested than he’s felt in a very long time.</p><p>Which really, is the first sign that something’s not quite right.</p><p>The second sign would have to be the warmth. It’s a pleasant feeling, one like just stepping into a hot shower after a long, stressful day. Or putting on a fresh set of clothes that have been drying for hours in the hot summer sun. Tommy hasn’t felt this warm in… well, who knows how long. He’d never quite stopped feeling cold, really; Not since the L’Manberg election all those months ago. Or maybe even before then. Perhaps he lost his warmth years ago, when he first set off from his childhood home, seeking out adventure. </p><p>Now, for once, after what seems like an eternity, Tommy feels genuinely <em> good.  </em></p><p>So this is all starting to become a bit suspicious.</p><p>Considering the only thing he can see as he briefly opens his eyes is an eternal void of bright red, completely encasing the man like a giant pool of molasses, Tommy begins to panic a little. He moves his arms around, disoriented, trying to find anything to grab onto to anchor himself again. He doesn’t know where he is, why he’s here, nor which way is up or down — but he does know that whatever he’s swimming in, it’s in his fucking <em> lungs, </em> and he is no longer comfortable.</p><p>It takes a minute of thrashing and kicking into the vibrant abyss of liquid <em> something, </em> but he manages to brush his fingertips against some kind of solid terrain. He grasps onto that feeling, willing his body to move towards it. Slowly, gradually, he finds a bit of his bearings and is able to maneuver himself up a jagged slope he can’t see.</p><p>Tommy distantly notices how much his throat and chest fucking <em> burn </em>, as well as his eyes — which are now firmly squeezed shut — but is much too worried about finding solid and dry land to linger on it. It would be nice to breathe again first.</p><p>Once he has a purpose and a destination, it becomes drastically easier to navigate through the substance, his arms cutting through seamlessly to find the next handhold. Eventually, like a breath of cool air on his skin, his hand breaches the surface, and he’s able to drag himself up onto land on his forearms and knees.</p><p>He would be lying if he said he doesn’t already miss the warmth.</p><p>Now slightly less weightless than before, Tommy’s stomach roils violently as he becomes hyper-aware of the thick gunk stuck in his system. He still can’t breathe, and that was a problem. Before he even has a chance to troubleshoot on his own, his nausea takes the reins, forcing his body to curl in on itself as his stomach heaves.</p><p>The burning in his chest and throat becomes more pronounced as the liquid mixed with bile travels up and out of his mouth, accompanied by painful retching and hacking. It’s slow, it’s grating on the back of his throat, and he hates the feeling with his whole being.</p><p>A few moments pass before Tommy finally gets a grip again, cautiously opening his eyes while he tries to cough out the remaining awkward feeling from his trachea. He stares down blankly at the glowing pile of vomit, not quite fully registering what’s just come out of his lungs. Deciding to focus instead on feeling alive again, he takes in some deep breaths, relishing in the sensation of oxygen filling his chest. Breathing is definitely better than drowning, any day. Despite the cooler atmosphere, the action also brings back a bit of that warmth he had felt when he was floating in… in the…</p><p>Huh. Where <em> is </em> he, anyway?</p><p>Tommy lifts his head and glances over his shoulder, tentatively sitting back to take in his surroundings.</p><p>He’s really not sure what he expected.</p><p>Sat just a meter or so behind him is what appears like an infinite expanse of lava. At least, he can’t see the other side of it through the fog in the distance. Streams of magma flow and drip down from the tall ceiling, like tiny waterfalls, and the pool is bordered on either side by lush red forest. Vines twist and curl their way up the trunks of the trees, before hanging down off the foliage like a cascade of curtains. The view is breathtaking. He might even venture to call it beautiful... if there wasn’t one major flaw here.</p><p>This is the Nether, and Tommy has no idea where the hell he is.</p><p>Of course he had to get himself lost in the <em> worst </em> dimension.</p><p>A quiet shuffling on the soft nylium floor draws his attention away from the landscape. Tommy whips his head forward again, and after a mere second of taking in the forest ahead of him, he locks eyes with the culprit. An adult piglin is stood not 10 meters away, staring with wide eyes as it holds a brittle-looking gold sword loosely at its side. The man offhandedly notices one of the swine’s tusks is broken off at the top. If Tommy wasn’t currently trying to determine the probability of keeping his life, he might be thinking about how badass it makes the creature look.</p><p>There is a very pregnant pause as the two hold eye contact, both frozen in anticipation. Tommy’s heart is thundering in his chest. His enemy doesn’t look strong in the slightest, but Tommy also hasn’t had a proper weapon or armor in a while. He can’t defend himself. He’s a sitting duck, and even a sword made as poorly as that one could be devastating.</p><p>It’s while he’s debating whether to get up and make a run for it that the tension is broken. The piglin breaks eye contact as it shifts its gaze down slightly, before looking back up again. Then it huffs.</p><p>It <em> huffs. </em></p><p>Tommy is still frozen — though suddenly very irritated — not sure when the mob is going to strike. Did the fucking pig just laugh at him? He swears it’s trying to give him childhood flashbacks.</p><p>Before Tommy has the chance to get irrationally angry and start yelling — surely it would be a poor time for that — the piglin tosses something on the ground between them and turns, shuffling away into the trees with that shitty gold sword slung over its shoulder.</p><p>Tommy blinks. His emotions are a mixture of confusion, relief, and maybe slight offense.</p><p>On the one hand, he got out of a quite possibly deadly confrontation. On the other, he feels like he just got made fun of by a pig. <em> Just like the old days, </em> he thinks in annoyance. Does it think Tommy isn’t even worth the effort to fight? He could dominate a battle if he wanted to, even just with his bare fists! That piglin doesn’t know what it’s on about. Badass tusks or not.</p><p>It did drop something though, he recalls. His eyes trace down from treeline to land on the gift the piglin left behind. It’s…</p><p>It’s a pile of leather pieces.</p><p>It takes Tommy a moment of staring at the items dumbly before he starts stitching together the intention here. If there were any reason for a piglin to just <em> give </em> something like that to him, without even demanding so much as a golden nugget, then...</p><p>Nervously he glances further down to look at his body. His face flushes a bright red the moment he realizes.</p><p>Realizes that he just shamelessly stared down an enemy while being completely fucking <em> naked. </em></p><p>Tommy buries his head in his hands in shame and horror, twisting his knees up in a weak attempt at hiding himself. Why the <em> hell </em> is he naked? A wild creature just <em> laughed </em> at him ‘cause his willy was out. An animal! Barely civilized! Laughing at him because he don’t got no fucking clothes on. Probably spared him out of pity!</p><p>This is so embarrassing, holy shit.</p><p>Lifting his head and glancing around for any more surprise witnesses, the man decides it’s in his best interests to stand and make a run for the leather — while using his hands to cover up, just in case. He could use the items to make some clothes.</p><p>All in all, this really comes in clutch. Regardless of how humiliated he feels, that piglin taking — unfortunately — <em> pity </em> on him will probably save him a lot of trouble.</p><p>That doesn’t mean he has to like it though.</p><p>Now in firm possession of the very valuable bundle of leather, Tommy holds it in front of his manly bits as better cover while he looks around again for signs of danger. Maybe somewhere safe to hole up in until he can calm his racing thoughts.</p><p>However, he finds that no matter where he looks, his eyes keep getting drawn back to that same expanse of gently bubbling magma. It’s not that he means to get distracted, but... But. He has to admit, it’s very entrancing. The colour is so strangely inviting; it looks so <em> warm. </em> He misses being warm.</p><p>If he just– just walked over there — not for long, maybe just a moment, just for a closer look, he– he could— </p><p>Tommy backpedals, tightly squeezing his eyes shut for two seconds in order to refocus his thoughts. <em> No, no, </em> he thinks. He can’t let the warmth entice him like last time, it’ll get him killed. He’s on his last life, he… the lava would– would definitely...</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Last time?</p><p>Hasn’t this — has he been in this situation before?</p><p>He… recalls a feeling. A desire. A desperation, to be rid of the cold in his bones. He wanted it so bad, and– and he still feels it. But something’s changed. Why is it different? Why… what happened? He doesn’t feel cold anymore, but he still wants to be warm, so why, why is he — what did he do that made him— </p><p>As Tommy tries to unravel his jumbling thoughts, tries to remember, he’s interrupted by a violent series of coughs that tear their way out of the man’s throat. The pain in his chest flares up again, his eyes stinging, and he subconsciously claws at the skin below his collarbone while he strains to recover from the episode.</p><p>He feels like he’s <em> burning </em>, from the inside out. It hurts. It hurts, but... it’s also reassuring, in a way. Much like the warmth he’s been craving so badly. Just... so much more potent, and perhaps not quite as pleasant.</p><p>A few more moments pass for his lungs to calm down before he’s able to take in air again. Peering out of narrowed eyelids, feeling a bit hollow, he notices that a bit more of that goo from before is now splattered on the nylium floor. He supposes not all of it got out last time.</p><p>Standing up straight — or rather, as straight as he normally stands —  he curiously lets his gaze travel over to the larger pile of vomit he expelled a few minutes ago.</p><p>Then startles as he notices the change of colour.</p><p>What once was a glowing reddish orange has now crusted over with a chalky black film. Tiny specks of brightness poke out from cracks in the surface. His eyes, now very wide, quickly dart back to look at the new droplets in front of him. If he stares long enough, he can see the hue slowly shift and grow darker, much like the other larger pile. They… that’s…</p><p>The resemblance is uncanny, really. But that just doesn’t make sense to him.</p><p>Tommy hesitantly turns once again to stare out towards the lava pool. The surface of which is patterned with blotches of that same dark texture. The direction of which he’s sure he crawled from when he awoke.</p><p>He swallows dryly.</p><p>
  <em> ...Surely not. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tubbo is already having a poor day by the time Fundy arrives.</p><p>The man had been slaving at his desk for hours, deep into the late evening. Being a President is hard. He doesn’t remember Wilbur ever having to deal with so much paperwork and planning back in his time. Back during the war, he would always be there next to his men. Turning to them for advice, for ideas, for plans. Everything was a team effort. During peacetime, he wasn’t around as much, but it wasn’t like there was much extra to do. At least, as far as he knows. L’Manberg wasn’t destroyed nearly as severely then as it was this time ‘round. Tubbo has to basically rebuild the entire country from ashes.</p><p>Not that progress isn’t coming along well, but it’s just — well, exhausting. He also can’t put this kind of stress on his citizens. They’re working just as hard already to help with the rebuilding efforts. New property, new citizens, terraforming the landscape to cover up the giant crater, et cetera. He can’t bother them with paperwork too. He wishes Tommy were here to help him take his mind off things for a while. He needs a break.</p><p>There’s just no time for one.</p><p>Phil proposed a plan to turn ground zero into a manmade lake, and everyone’s been running with that idea in mind — building the houses on stilts, sectioning off the crater from the unsullied land. It’s a lovely plan, and he hopes everyone will get to celebrate its completion soon. Surely the property value will skyrocket from all this hard work everyone’s been putting together.</p><p>There was a glaring problem with this whole thing, though.</p><p>Its name was Philza.</p><p>Tubbo’s known Phil for a long time. Maybe his whole life. He was raised alongside Phil’s own children, even if he didn’t quite fit into the dynamic as well as the others. At least he had Tommy — and oh, how he misses Tommy.</p><p>But Phil has become an issue.</p><p>Not directly. The man hasn’t done anything that might harm L’Manberg, at least not yet. But Tubbo has seen him now and then, sneaking off into the wilds. Flying out over the sea. He’s seen him holding an enchanted compass, pointing to who knows where. And he has his suspicions.</p><p>Tubbo’s been in that position himself, before. He remembers the weekly excursions to Pogtopia. The web of lies he’d weaved to Schlatt.  It was a terrifying period of his life and he’d sooner forget it if he had the chance. But he recognizes the signs.</p><p>He knows that Phil is up to something. Or, at the very least, visiting someone in secret. And he could place a bet that he knows who it is.</p><p>The problem is getting him to stop. Phil is a powerful man, and despite Tubbo holding the Presidency, deep down he still feels like a child that is obligated to obey his elders. And Phil, he’s like a dad to him. How is he meant to keep him in check? What is he even supposed to <em> do? </em>He can’t just throw him in prison, the man hasn’t done anything wrong!</p><p>Tubbo buries his head in his arms, wondering when everything went to shit. He doesn’t know how to run a country. He doesn’t know how to keep everyone safe.</p><p>Tommy would know what to do.</p><p>Tubbo misses his best friend.</p><p>So when a muffled crash sounds from the foyer of the White House, interrupting his reminiscing, he feels like he wants to cry. There’s always going to be more work to do.</p><p>Tiredly the boy rises from his desk, shuffling over to his office door. He swings it open, patiently waiting as the hurried footsteps padding across the tile hallway grow louder. Not a few moments later, Tubbo is greeted with the disheveled face of his Secretary of State.</p><p>“Tubb– er, Mr. President,” The fox begins, “d-do you, uh, do you have a moment?”</p><p>The boy stares for a second with tired eyes as the other catches his breath, wishing more than anything he could go to bed without having to deal with all this responsibility.</p><p>He can’t disappoint his citizens, though. “What do you need, Fundy? Is it important? Can it wait until morning?”</p><p>Fundy visibly swallows. “Uhh, it’s um.” He fidgets with his hands, his eyes darting around in obvious distress, and that worries Tubbo a lot.</p><p>“What is it?” <em> Something’s wrong, </em> he thinks, stomach pooling with dread. “Is somebody hurt? Is there a raid attacking?”</p><p>Fundy waves his hands in front of him. “No, no, nothing like that. Well, maybe like that, but uhh.” The hybrid clears his throat. Tubbo can hear how choked up the man sounds, even in his efforts to remain professional. “Ah gosh Tubbo, you’re not going to like this—”</p><p>“Fundy, can you <em> please </em> cut to the chase?” His worry was getting the better of him, and a bit of irritation was leaking out from his mental exhaustion. “What’s going on?” <em> Please let everyone be okay. </em></p><p>Fundy swallows again, standing up straight as he steels himself. “It’s about Tommy, Mr. President.”</p><p>It’s Tubbo’s turn to swallow.</p><p>“He, uh— T-Tommy has been pronounced deceased, s-sir. At the hands of Dream.”</p><p>It’s in this moment that Tubbo’s world stops turning.</p><p>He feels so cold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>minecraft</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Trousers make life more bearable.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Been a while, huh? Sorry this isn't longer, motivation was gone for a couple months. TommyInnit's youtooz came in the mail yesterday tho so I figured I'd get off my ass for the occasion. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy carefully shuffles through the undergrowth of the Crimson forest, grumbling to himself as he picks his way around overgrown vines and fungi. The area has been awfully quiet, which seems bizarre for this biome — at least in his own experience. He hasn’t seen a single mob since that first piglin. Not that he’s complaining, but that encounter happened nearly an hour ago by now. It’s starting to make him nervous.</p>
<p>Speaking of the piglin: Tommy is, quite frankly, very pissed off.</p>
<p>After his coughing fit earlier, when he spat up a bunch of — and he means this — <em> lava, </em> from his lungs ‘n shit — and honestly, what the <em> fuck </em> is that about — he ran into a problem.</p>
<p>Turns out, that bundle of pity leather he got? Yeah, he got a bunch of fuckin’ <em> lava spit </em> all over it.</p>
<p>To be fair, Tommy thinks the lava thing is incredibly badass. He doesn’t know when this all started, and frankly it’s still goddamn freaky — and maybe a little bit scary. But how cool is this shit? He just <em> ingested </em> lava, and he’s totally fine! Not even fire resistance pots can protect someone’s insides from boiling. He would know.</p>
<p>A shiver wracks his body at the distant, unpleasant memory.</p>
<p>But that’s in the past! If this wasn’t some one-time thing, does this mean he can just eat lava whenever he wants to now?</p>
<p>...Not that he <em> would </em> want to, it was actually quite a terrible experience, but at least he knows he <em> can </em> . The reason <em> why, </em>however, is something he’ll have to unpack at a later time, because he’s got bigger problems. If he’s lucky, this lava immunity or whatever won’t just disappear overnight. He really wants to figure out what the hell is going on. And maybe prank somebody in the process.</p>
<p>Anyways, he did manage to salvage some of the leather. He ended up with just enough pieces in decent condition to fashion some crude pants. He’s never been too good with fabrics; that’s more of a Phil thing. Tommy much prefers armor and weapon crafting (Which is also a Phil thing. Why is his dad so good at everything?). But, at the end of the day, he’s proud of his new trousers, burnt patches and all.</p>
<p>As long as he doesn’t run into Connor anytime soon, he should be able to remain decent until he can get a hold of some real clothes. <em> That guy’s a maniac, </em> he thinks, brushing his hand protectively against the fabric on his legs.</p>
<p>In any case, it feels like he’s spent days just walking forward through the trees by the time anything interesting decides to happen.</p>
<p>He’s silently complaining to himself — again — about how he’s been stuck in this damn crimson forest for ages, no matter how far he travels. He doesn’t want to change directions. This just seems like the right way to go. He’s drawn to it — even though he’s very clearly not making any progress. The experience is making him a bit dizzy, really. Like the vines and nether wart blocks are moving and twisting around him, making him more lost than he already is. It’s as he huffs to himself over seeing the same damn bundle of mushrooms on that same <em> damn </em> nylium hill for the <em> fourth time now— </em>when his foot catches on a root that’s raised out of the ground way further than it has any right to be. Tommy is sent stumbling forward, arms splaying out wide in an attempt to save himself.</p>
<p>He catches himself on the trunk of a tree, and in the same moment, a current of something like electricity crashes through his body. It shoots up through Tommy’s arm and down his spine, filling his veins and making his skin buzz. Despite just breaking his own fall, the man succumbs to gravity, allowing it to pull him to his knees as he leans a bit more heavily into the purple bark. His nerve endings are humming with energy, and his body begins to tremble involuntarily as his entire being screams one mantra:</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>D̷̫͠O̸̮̽N̴̹̒'̵̦̑T̸̯̊ ̵͉̚G̶̗̈́O̴̱̐</em> </b>
</p>
<p>It’s like a thousand voices shrieking at him at once. Even beyond that, he <em> wants </em> to listen. He’s being invaded with feelings of desperation and fear. It’s making him feel like he needs to stop, that he shouldn’t be following whatever is drawing him away. Like it’s a bad idea to go, like he’ll get <em> hurt </em> if he does, a-and...</p>
<p>...And if that isn’t the freakiest shit. Despite the sensory overload, Tommy is spooked so badly by the… <em> everything, </em> that he scrambles away from the tree and backs himself up against a netherrack outcropping. The living electricity is gone, just like that, giving him a few moments to catch his breath and process.</p>
<p>“What the fuck,” he wheezes. “What the hell.”</p>
<p>Another few deep, uneven breaths.</p>
<p>“Okay. Weird fuckin’ magic demon fungus tree,” he decides resentfully as he recovers. “Givin’ me ghosts in me head. I did not sign up for this.”</p>
<p>It takes a few more moments, but Tommy manages to drag himself to his feet, eyes never leaving the bigass mushroom that violated him. He brushes the ashy dust off his precious trousers.</p>
<p>Leveling the tree with a hard glare, he points at it menacingly. “No more funny business, bitch. If you think I’m going to listen to some evil tree monster just because you startled me a little, you’ve got another thing coming.”</p>
<p>Met with silence following his retort, Tommy’s face flushes a bit as he retracts his hand and turns back to face the original path. The air feels unpleasantly cooler now, Tommy notices. He chalks it up to the adrenaline leaving his system.</p>
<p>Shaking out the last of his nerves, the man continues on his journey, careful to avoid brushing against any more trees. And if he feels a bit triumphant when he reaches a new biome for the first time in hours, well, at least he can say he deserves it.<br/>
<br/>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em><br/>
She can’t help but shrink back as the boy scolds her methods. She hadn’t intended to frighten him, but he was persistent. It will be unfortunate if he finds that place again; She’s only trying to protect him. This is all for the boy, who reminds her so much of herself. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The boy is afraid of her. This is her fault; She was much too brazen. She will need to take a gentler approach. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> For the time being, she has interfered far too much. She will let him travel the path untampered, if only to refrain from hurting him again. She will watch, as he travels onward, following the lodestone’s pull to the place that ruined him. She will let him remember, and give him the opportunity to decide. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Maybe then she will be able to remind the boy that he is safe now.<br/>
<br/>
</em>
</p><hr/>
<p><br/>
“Hey, Dream?”</p>
<p>Dream lays uncomfortably atop a couple of messily-tied hay bales, staring up at the fabric ceiling of Tommy’s tent. Tnret. Whatever. The structure is sloppily crafted, but sturdy — the latter probably due to Ghostbur’s assistance. Along the opposite wall, hanging over the bed, is the picture of the SMP Christmas Tree, Sapnap featured standing atop the star.</p>
<p>Looking at the photo makes Dream feel sick, so he doesn’t.</p>
<p>Dream had left the ghost alone to let him work on his novels, or whatever he does in the house, several hours ago. It had given him reprieve from the constant stream of questions out of the dead man’s mouth, as well as time to better process recent events.</p>
<p>He had killed Tommy. Whether indirectly or not, he did it. In his scramble to control the flow of power in the SMP, he had sacrificed something he’d forgotten he had — and in the process, lost the very source of power he sought to accumulate. Though, he realized too late that that’s not what he should’ve valued most. Regardless of his motives, he’d crossed a line he hadn’t meant to cross, and now he’s not sure how to feel. He still has the same goal he’s always had, but what does it matter if— </p>
<p>Someone clears their throat, interrupting his rumination.</p>
<p>“Oh Dreeeaammmm, I’ve been calling for you! Are you awake in there?” Ghostbur’s innocent whispers aren’t as subtle as he wishes they were.</p>
<p>Sighing, Dream sits up, sinking further into the loose hay as the weight shifts. “What do you need, Ghostbur?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Hello again Dream. I know you told me to leave you alone for the night, but, well…” The spirit seems to fidget nervously, pausing to decide how to phrase his words, probably. “Well,” he repeats, “I was wondering if you’ve gotten any word from Tommy yet.”</p>
<p>Dream swallows down the anxiety threatening to crawl up his throat, keeping his body language passive and open. He tilts his head in mock-question.</p>
<p>Ghostbur continues, “I remember you mentioned he came back from the Nether without us, and it’s been 24 hours and 32 minutes since we arrived back at Logstedshire. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen or heard from him or anything since he left. I’m growing quite worried. What if he’s lost, or got distracted and had to sleep in a dark cave, or maybe he’s hurt, and—”</p>
<p>“Wilbur,” he interrupts, ignoring the wince the ghost makes at the mention of his old name, “I’m sure Tommy’s not… lost, or hurt, or anything like that. Everything will be fine, okay?”</p>
<p>He only feels a little bad at how the ghost visibly sags in relief. “Oh thank goodness, I don’t know what I’d do if Tommy got hurt. He’s my baby brother, you know!” Ghostbur’s voice is cheerful as he smiles warmly. Something constricts in Dream’s chest. He can’t tell him.</p>
<p>Tommy made a choice, though. Is there really anything he could have done to change the kid’s fate? Even if he had gotten there in time to stop him, who’s to say he wouldn’t have gone back and jumped when Dream wasn’t around? Who’s to say he wouldn’t have found other means? Tommy’s been hurting for a while. He knows because he’d been choosing to ignore it, all this time. He’d been hurting long before Dream played any major role in his suffering. Not to mention how depressed he must have been over Wilbur’s death. That one wasn’t even entirely his fault.</p>
<p><em> You pushed him over the edge, though, </em> he reasons. Metaphorically, at least. And he knows it’s true. He shouldn’t make excuses for himself. He fucked up bad, and now Tommy’s paid the price.</p>
<p>Thankfully, he’s interrupted from his thoughts again before the old memories itching at his brain have a chance to resurface.</p>
<p>“You alright there, green man? You seem a little stiff.”</p>
<p>Forcing his muscles to relax, Dream nods lazily. “I’m alright, thanks for the concern Ghostbur.”</p>
<p>“Ah, good, good. Well, if you’re not going to sleep, would you like to come mining with me? We’re a bit low on Blue, and it looks like you could use some.” Maybe the ghost is more perceptive than he lets on. That could be dangerous. “I’d go cornflower picking, but it’s a tad too dark out. Don’t want you getting swarmed by mobs.”</p>
<p>Dream doesn’t really want to think about his mistakes anymore anyways. He might as well occupy himself with something productive. “Sure thing.”</p>
<p>Putting his anxieties and regrets aside, he equips his pickaxe and follows Ghostbur to the mineshaft, looking forward to the brainless labor ahead of him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter will be more exciting, promise.</p>
<p><a href="https://discord.gg/geJuRNqnGX">Discord.</a> Its pretty barren but we post memes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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